Sherlock Holmes (55 page)

The Duke thought for a moment.
“Why, yes! Four o’clock!"

Holmes smiled grimly. “So,
logically, the prize should be exactly where these intruders have
dug… but clearly it is not. We are missing a piece of the puzzle. I
think, your grace, that it is time that we visited your
solicitor."

The Duke summoned his carriage
and some twenty minutes later we were hurrying along the country
lanes towards the town of Salcombe. The journey was uneventful and
before long the carriage stopped in the centre of the town outside
a rather plain, stone building that contained the offices of
several professions. From the carriage I could see a small brass
plaque beside the front door which identified the occupants, one of
them was solicitor, Charles Stretton.

Holmes lent forward towards the
Duke, saying, “Forgive me, your grace. I would be grateful if you
did not disclose our identities to Mr Stretton."

The Duke nodded. “As you wish,
Mr Holmes."

Within moments, the footman had
dismounted and opened the carriage door. The Duke strode forward
purposefully, leading the way for Holmes and myself.

Charles Stretton’s office was on
the first floor and Holmes and I hurried to keep pace with the Duke
as he climbed the narrow stairs. At the door to Charles Stretton’s
office, the Duke knocked once and immediately entered. We followed
close behind.

           
The outer office was quite small and dingy. It had that dull
appearance that was seemingly common to all legal firms. The room
was fairly well lit but it could not shake off its gloomy
atmosphere. Dull, dark wood furniture and shelves of files seemed
to fill the room and loom oppressively. Piles of documents tied
with pink ribbons seemed to litter most of the available surfaces
and the smell of dust and old parchment tinged the air.

As we entered, a young man
looked up from his desk, filled with papers. On seeing us, he
jumped from his chair as if he had sat on a tin-tack. In truth, I
have never seen the colour drain from a man’s face so quickly. He
looked indeed pale and I saw him reach out a hand to support
himself on his desk.

“Good morning, your grace” he
stammered. His gaze darted from the Duke to us and then back to the
Duke.

The Duke approached the desk,
saying, “Good morning, Robert. We wish to speak with your
father."

The young man looked again at
Holmes and I and it seemed as though his colour had drained even
further. He now looked positively grey.

I glanced towards Holmes. I
could see from his expression and thin smile that he was greatly
enjoying the situation, observing every detail. The young man
seemed to get a grip of himself and asked if we might wait a moment
whilst he ascertained whether his father was available. Robert
Stretton turned and hurried away through a large oak door at the
rear of the outer office. He reappeared a few moments later,
stepping forward to usher us into his father’s office.

The Duke strode in and we
followed. Looking around, I could see that the inner office was a
little more elegant, furnished with a variety of quality, mahogany
furniture. One of the walls was lined with legal reference books
and another bore a large, pastoral picture in a swept gilt frame.
The rear wall had a window that faced us and through it could be
seen what, presumably, was once the kitchen garden when the
building had been a private dwelling. Holmes briefly touched my
sleeve and I followed his glance out of the window. In the garden
below could be seen the clearly muscular figure of what appeared to
be a handyman, digging over the borders to a small lawn. He was
dressed in labourer’s work clothes and leather boots. Holmes
inclined his head slightly and, as I looked, the handyman took a
blue and white sweat cloth from around his neck and wiped his
forehead. Holmes’ face again showed a knowing, thin smile.

Rising to greet us from a large
leather chair, behind an imposing mahogany desk, was Charles
Stretton. He was a man of about fifty years with iron grey hair,
receding at the top and neatly oiled in place. He wore the clothing
which, seemingly, all those of the legal profession found most
comfortable. This being a dark blue, three piece suit, the
waistcoat of which being lightly pinstriped and decorated by a
large, gold, watch chain. He was clearly somewhat flustered by our
entrance but quickly calmed himself and welcomed us into his
office.

Charles Stretton moved around
his desk and stepped forward. “Good morning, your grace” and bowed
briefly. He did not proffer his hand to us, but with a nod in our
direction, he said, “Gentlemen." Stretton pulled out a chair for
the Duke, calling, “Robert? Bring two more chairs for these
gentlemen." Robert Stretton appeared briefly in the doorway before
he scurried off to reappear with the chairs. The Duke sat down and,
now having chairs, we followed suit.

“We have had more intruders at
the Grange, Stretton." announced the Duke.

Charles Stretton played the part
of the innocent well and appeared to be shocked at the news. “Good
heavens! Was anything taken?”

The Duke shook his head.
“Thankfully not, but it is so damned un-nerving. I was concerned
that the strong-room might have been a target for the thieves. Do
you have your key in a place of safety?”

Charles Stretton reached into
his waistcoat pocket and took from it a slender key. He rolled his
chair back a little way and then unlocked a drawer in his desk.
From the drawer he produced a larger key, which he held out to the
Duke. “As you can see, your grace, it bears no label and only I
know its true purpose."

As Stretton held out the key to
show the Duke, Holmes lent forward and asked if he might examine
it. Stretton pulled back the key, out of Holmes’ reach and looked
toward the Duke. The Duke nodded and Stretton, still a little
unsure, passed the key to Holmes.

Pulling out his magnifying
glass, Holmes studied the key intently. Satisfied, he passed the
key back to Charles Stretton who duly replaced it and locked it
firmly away in his desk.

Holmes smiled and addressed the
solicitor. “I apologise for not introducing myself to you, Mr
Stretton. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my companion, Doctor
John Watson. We are here at the Duke’s request to be of some small
service to him regarding the intruders at the Grange. His grace has
told me of his concerns regarding the family strong-room. We opened
it this morning and all is well. It’s clear that you keep your key
securely. Have you ever had need to use it?”

Charles Stretton had plainly
heard of Sherlock Holmes and his demeanour became a little
agitated. “No, Mr Holmes. It has remained here in my drawer from
the time his grace’s father gave it to me for safe keeping.”

Holmes smiled again.
“Excellent!"

At this, Charles Stretton
visibly relaxed and was now becoming more confident. “Would you
care to take some tea, your grace?” asked Stretton.

Before the Duke could respond,
Holmes replied, “That would be splendid! Thank you.” and beamed at
Stretton.

The Duke looked a little bemused
but said nothing, letting Holmes take the lead in the conversation.
Charles Stretton lent forward and put the palm of his hand on a
small brass circular bell of the type found on a hotel reception
desk. A few moments later, Robert Stretton appeared between us,
facing his father.

“Robert, please prepare tea for
his grace and his guests."

Robert Stretton nodded but as he
turned to leave, Holmes caught his sleeve. From his jacket, Holmes
had taken a slim, cigar case and had pulled from it a thin cheroot.
Looking up at Robert Stretton, he asked, “I wonder, could I trouble
you for a light?”

Robert Stretton reached into his
jacket pocket and pulled from it a box of matches. Striking one, he
held it out for Holmes. Holmes lent forward and held Robert
Stretton’s arm and for several seconds as he drew on the cheroot.
At the same time, he asked me what the time was. I thought this a
very strange request as a clock was in plain view on the wall. I
fumbled for my watch and as I consulted it, there was a small cry
from Robert Stretton. He dropped the match as the flame had become
too close to his fingers.

 Holmes immediately
released his grip and apologised, saying, “I am so sorry! How
careless of me, I was distracted.” Robert Stretton forced a smile
and left to prepare the tea.

Holmes stood up, and drew on his
cheroot. Looking towards the window he casually remarked, “You have
a fine view of the garden, Mr Stretton and a strapping gardener, I
see. He must be all of six foot."

Charles Stretton turned in his
chair and stood to follow Holmes’ gaze. As he turned, Holmes
swiftly bent down and retrieved the match stub from the floor,
placing it in his waistcoat pocket.

Stretton nodded. “Ah yes, Sykes.
He’s a fit enough fellow. He has been our gardener for a good few
years and is also the grave digger at the local church."

Holmes sat down and took another
draw on his cheroot before saying, calmly, “You must have been very
concerned when Robert and Sykes returned this morning empty
handed."

Charles Stretton’s jaw dropped.
“What…Whatever do you mean?” stammered Stretton.

“Come, Stretton, don’t play
games. I know it all." Holmes leaned forward. “When you became the
family solicitor for his grace, along with all the title deeds for
the Grange there came a sealed letter. You already knew the Burley
family history and had very probably heard the story of the ‘Star
of Bithur’, first hand, from your father. Clearly there was no
treasure lodged with the deeds but on the 50th anniversary of the
death of his grace’s grandfather, the 4th Duke of Salcombe, the
letter now had significant importance. Perhaps the letter would
reveal its location.” Holmes now pointed directly at Stretton. “You
carefully opened the letter, taking care not to break the seal,
read it and re-sealed it using a little gum Arabic."

Charles Stretton rose to protest
but before he could speak, Holmes commanded, “Sit down Stretton! On
reading the letter you realised that the key to the location of the
treasure was in the painting. At this point you involved your son
and Sykes. They entered the Grange and were in the process of
removing the picture when the night watchman discovered them. They
were indeed lucky to escape.”

“It's not true!” screamed
Stretton.

“Hold your tongue man! You will
be lucky to escape the gallows given that the Duke died as a direct
result of the actions of your accomplices!” thundered Holmes.

Holmes leaned even further
forwards towards Stretton, saying, “News of the burglary spread,
you knew the Duke would now place the picture in the strong-room.
All was not lost for you had a key. You gave the key to your son
and despatched him and Sykes again, using the same route as before
so that there would be no fresh marks showing entry into the
Grange. This time they were not detected. They studied the picture
and brought back the intelligence you needed.”

Holmes sat back. “You are a
clever man, Stretton. You realised the significance of the missing
sundial, the time on the clock and the date on the painting. You
thought you had all the clues and now a third visit was needed. To
avoid detection, Robert and Sykes used a shielded lantern to help
them dig at the spot you had calculated from the picture. It was an
easy task for Sykes, for he is, as you say, a gravedigger, used to
heavy digging… but they found nothing.”

Stretton was enraged. “You can’t
prove any of this!”

Holmes’ face was grim. “Can’t I?
Let us see. You are the only person who had access to the
4
^th
Duke’s sealed letter and it was plain that it had
been opened before the Duke broke the seal. Besides his Grace’s
key, the only other key to the strong-room was in your keeping. You
stated that it had never been used and, indeed, you were the only
person who knew its purpose. When I examined it, it was clear that
it had been used recently. In the strong-room I found a wax Vesta
match stub. My little charade today with the cheroot allowed me to
obtain a similar stub. Warm wax is particularly useful for
recording fingerprints and the two wax match stubs will both bear
fingerprints that belong to your son."

It was clear that Stretton was
becoming more and more alarmed but Holmes pressed on. "Sykes wears
leather work boots. He no doubt has metal cleats set in them that
will match the scratches on the stone steps that run down to the
strong-room. In the garden of the Grange I found fibres from Sykes’
neck cloth in the grass beside the sundial. Also, whilst I was
lighting my cheroot, I noticed that your son’s shoes had scuffed
toecaps. An examination will reveal that there are traces of
Lichens, identical to those growing on the kitchen wall of the
Grange where he and Sykes made their escape.” Holmes sat back,
saying firmly, “The game is up Stretton! I can prove every
word!”

Stretton’s face convulsed and he
let out a strangled cry. He tried to rise but fell forward onto his
desk. I leapt up and felt for a pulse on Stratton’s neck… but there
was none. I turned to Holmes and shook my head.

The sound of his father’s cry
had brought Robert Stretton to his father’s office. Crying, “No!”
Robert Stretton ran around the desk and placed his hands on his
father’s shoulders as if to try and wake him.

“He’s gone, Robert.” said the
Duke, in a quiet voice.

We turned and left, leaving
Robert Stretton to mourn his father. The footman opened the door of
the waiting carriage and we rode in silence for some little way
before anyone spoke.